Forgotten Queen
by MsBBSue
Summary: He lives his life not in the vain of his country's destruction, but in his country's honor. There is no blue in his blood for it lacks the luster of royalty—but that does not make him inadequate for the job he was born for, if anything it strengthens his prominence. (Alternate universe)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters, nor the series or anything of or relating to said title-except some games, but I do not own the rights to any of it. I am not profiting from this. This is purely for entertainment purposes.**

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**Prelude**

He lives his life not in the vain of his country's destruction, but in his country's honor. There is no blue in his blood for it lacks the luster of royalty—but that does not make him inadequate for the job he was born for, if anything it strengthens his prominence. His village was one of the last to be touched by the filthy hands of a being known as Ghirahim Meikka; man of no home, Lord of Slaves, and with only enough loyalty to stay true to himself and his master.

The attacks did not happen during the early hours of sunrise, as some may presume—but nor did they happen in the late hours of twilight where the sun would be at the attackers' advantage. No, no, the villains and their adopted leader much preferred their victims to see them coming on at full view, for it was not everyday women struck fear into the hearts of men.

Ghirahim's Gerudos would charge at full speed as soon as the sun hit its peak allowing their pray to see them sometimes for miles on end; their deadly purple blanket coating the fields until they met their unwilling opponents. Their form was beautiful and had it not been for the terror in the moments during and after the attacks, perhaps the victims would have noticed just how extravagant the tribe was.

Lord Ghirahim Meikka road a horse that matched his silvery hair, while the women road the black stallions native to their homeland. Such tall horses—and powerful as they were grand; the women, of course, could be described the just the same; as powerful as they were grand.

Their hair was copper just as their skin which made the purple costumes they wore stand out against their flesh as their eyes beamed golden as the sun on a morning rise. Such rarity it was to have these beauties in this land that nearly all the inhabitants had believed the women to be merely legend. However, with the passing months of growing attacks fingers began to be rightfully pointed at these near mythical beings, and, as a result, some began to believe in the legend of the all female race once again.

It was a terrifying thought, for these women were not known to take pity nor mercy. In legend, they were heartless, strong, and willful. With the rise of the attacks, people began whispering _Gerudo_, for they believed if they said the race's name too loud, it would not only strengthen the women's existence but also bring to light a new nightmare; one which had been lived through hundreds of times before. One, in which, the outcome was to either defeat or be defeated. One, in which, would challenge both the mind and heart of a young man and change his life and those he knew before completely.

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**Chapter One**

The young man holds his knife firmly and, with short quick strokes, he begins to remove the red scales from the fish before him. It had been a quiet day in the village for the day after was to be a celebration of their three Goddesses; Din, Farore, and Nayru. The young man watches as the little boy across from him tries to do the same but with a much smaller fish and knife. It was too small a fish to make a meal of, but the boy's father, Rusl, wished for his son to learn the basics of cleaning and gutting a fish. It was something the man's father had taught him and his father's father before him. In Rusl's eyes, it was a right of passage for a boy to learn the process; it was a lesson of care and maturity, things that a boy would need to learn in order to become a man.

"Shorter strokes," the young man whispers to the boy as Rusl props his fishing rod into a hole in the mud along the river. The little boy furrows his brow with all the concentration a seven year old can muster and attempts the short sweeps with his blade taking care not to knick his fingers.

"Short strokes with firm pressure, Collin; remember that," Rusl announces as he brings a bucket of water towards the boys. "Gentle, though," he advises with his hand teetering and eyes narrowing with the words. The man pushes back his shaggy salt and pepper hair and smirks as he lowers the bucket to the wet earth. "If you're too firm, you'll slice the fish." He lowers to a squat at his son's side and presses his forehead to the boy's. "And we don't want fish guts in out stew, now do we, boy?"

Collin's mouth stretches open as his tongue slides out with a sound of distaste making both the young man and Rusle chuckle. "No, papa," Colin answers with a shy smile as he continues to scrape the scales. After the boy's father has left his side, Colin's young sapphire eyes dart to the young man and then back to the makeshift table.

"What does Uli plan on doing with all these fish?" the young man asks as his eyes look to Rusl examining his propped rod.

Rusl shrugs as he turns to the boys. "_I_ was planning to smoke them, but she insisted it would be best to have a bit of a feast for the village tomorrow." He huffs and rolls his eyes. "If you never listen to a word I say, Link, hear these one; women will be the death of you, boy—I swear it," he says with a shake of his head and exasperated sigh.

Link lets out a chuckle and shakes his head as he lowers his bare fish into the bucket of water and begins cleaning a new one. His brow furrows lightly with concentration, but the smile still sits on his face. "She is your wife, Rusl. You chose to marry her. Truly, Uli is not so bad, Rusl—,"

"As opposed to what; a bear, a lion, perhaps a feral cat—maybe even—," he takes a shaky breath and looks at Colin, "Sera?" The boys let out a loud laugh. Sera, at times, could be more than a bit demanding of her husband. Uli in comparison to Sera was a summer's breeze.

"You are unfair to her," Link says through the side of his mouth.

"You don't know her like I, boy," Rusl says with his brows raised.

"She has been nothing but a blessing since my parents' passing," Link says as his eyes rise to Rusl. The young man had a soft place in his heart for that woman, for she was the one who took him in when he had nowhere else to go.

Rusl sways bashfully with his steps as he approaches Link's side. "I know boy," he says gently before matting the young man's blonde hair.

"What were your parents like?" a small voice asks making Link and Rusl look across at Colin. The little boy's eyes timidly dart back down to his fish until the burning stares make him look back up.

Link takes a deep breath. It had been too long since he last allowed his mind to think of their faces. "My dad was something like your dad," Link says with a ginger nod and stretched face. "Very much a brute… but he did have his gentle side—,"

"Since when do I have a gentle side?" Rusl barks out before letting out a chuckle.

"My mum was a sweet woman. She looked something like yours," he says. The two boys were maternal cousins. "The blonde hair, the big eyes… though… I think my mum was shorter," he says with an unsure nod.

"That she was," Rusl confirms. "Stood about this tall," he says with his hand at shoulder level. "But she was feistier than any annoyed goat I've ever seen—hell, she made enraged cuccos seem tame at times!"

Link smiles as Colin watches his father. The child loved to hear stories—it didn't matter if they were made up or simply memories of earlier times.

"I remember," Rusl continues, "Link's papa decided he was going to go with me to Hyrule Castletown one day. Rowan didn't tell Jenora where he was going or when he would be back." Rusl shakes his head slowly. "When we returned… we were a little more than inebriated—,"

"What does that mean?" Colin asks.

"Silly," Link says quickly before Rusl can explain.

"Not only did Jenora give him a piece of her mind, but _me_ as well. I told her I wasn't her husband but if she wanted to pretend, I would have no problem with it she'd just have to ask Rowan for permission first. Jenora smacked me upside the head and told me _I_ was a bastard and that she didn't need to ask for permission from anybody about anything she did!" He throws his head back at the memory. "Oh, did I learn not to mess around with her that night," he yelps with a laugh as Colin lets out a giggle. "She kicked my arse right out the door!"

Link grins and lowers his eyes to the fish before him and dunks it into the water bucket. Rusl continues to talk about the pains he and Link's father gave his mother, but Link does not hear any of it. All he sees is the last moment he saw his parents alive. They were headed to Kakariko Village. He was too young to remember what it was about—but he knew it wasn't a safe journey.

Link wipes the scales on his knife onto his trousers. His mother kissed him goodbye and his father matted his hair much in the same way Rusl had done moment before. He was younger than Colin at the time, but he could still see their faces as if it were yesterday. Link picks a new fish. Uli had offered to look after Link until the two got back. They never returned.

"So, there we were; more naked than the day we were born and tainted blue from the deku babas' petal paint." Rusl shakes his head as Colin belts out a laugh. "Jenora didn't know what to do with us." He sighs. "That poor girl—you know, most women would have tossed us out of their house and told us to keep away."

"But mum didn't," Link says.

"No, instead she married one of the arses and introduced the other to her sister," Rusl says making Link let out a chuckle. The man smirks and adds, "I guess she didn't want to be the only who suffered—," Rusl turns his head to the south. A feverish fear courses through his blood as he listens to what the air carried with it.

"Is that thunder?" Link asks as he cautiously rises from his stool.

Rusl's eyebrows lower to a furrow as his lips part. "Look to sky, boy. Do you see a cloud?"

Link looks up to the heavens and sees not a single puff of cloud. "Nothing but blue," he nearly whispers. "What could it be—,"

"Papa," Colin nearly whimpers as fear makes his skin cold and clammy.

"Link," Rusl says slow and calmly as to not upset his son. "I want you to take Colin to the ranch—,"

"What about Uli?" Link asks, panic making him speak faster than usual.

"Don't you worry; I'll find her. Just take Colin and go where it's safe." Rusl turns his head to his son as Link takes the young boy's hand. "You stay with Link, you hear me, Colin?" he says sternly as the thunder grows in volume. Colin gives a nod before swallowing hard. "You know where to go in the stables, boy?" he asks Link and the young man nods quickly.

Rusl's back straightens as he looks out in the direction of where the thunder sounds from. "Don't you let that one out of your sight, Link," he says with a shallow nod; his face is like stone, so unlike the Rusl Link had known.

"I won't," Link says with his eyes looking down to the young boy and then back to the man.

"Good," Rusl says before taking a step towards the thunder. "Like we practiced, boys; if youu see a youngling running about, take them along."

"Aye—,"

Rusl waves a hand. "I don't want to hear you—I don't even want to see you. Just run. Stay hidden until this storm passes."

Link tightens his grip on the boy's hand and stands for a second longer on unstable legs. Suddenly, he and Colin are gone in a flash. As Link and the boy race up the river's hill, Colin slips on the wet earth and Link holds tight onto the boy's hand adrenaline keeping his hand from releasing the boy's.

Colin lets out a whimper and, quickly, Link picks the child up and carries him; the boy's legs wrapped around his waist and small arms around his neck. He can feel Colin's struggled breaths as the child fights to keep from crying. By the time Link has made it up the hill, his legs are screaming from the incline and added weight, but fear of the raging thunder keeps him going.

With his heart pounding in his ears, Link cannot hear anything anymore. As he races down the path, he shakes his head and attempts to hum a soothing song for Colin as the boy begins to cry. One minute, Link sees the familiar houses of his village and the next he is racing up another hill. The gravel path keeps him from getting a firm enough grip with his steps. At one point he falls to his kneels only to have Colin let out a scream. Link's vision is tunneled and almost vibrates with the excitement—from what, he does not know, yet he believes it is enough to fear for his and Colin's life.

"We're almost there," Link says in a breathy whisper as he rises to his feet. He can feel Colin looking behind. "Remember what your papa told us? Keep looking ahead; _never_ look back," Link says as he taps Colin's back.

"I can't!" Colin cries.

"Then hide your eyes," Link answers and abruptly feels the boy press his face into the crook of his neck.

As they reach the gates of the ranch, Link boosts Colin over before climbing the posts himself. "Get to the stables and go in the crawlspace. Keep as quiet as you can," he orders the small boy.

"What about you?" Colin asks on the edge of a whine.

"I'm going to look for the others," he says before looking down at the village below. Suddenly, Link feels something wrap around his waist. He looks down as sees Colin holding him. Link takes a deep breath and places his hand on the back of the boy's blonde head. "I know it's scary," he says quietly as the thunder continues to rumble. "But you need to listen to me," he says.

"Please d-don't leave me," Colin rushes out between hiccoughs and sobs.

Link pulls to child away, but Colin's small hands grip his tunic in a knuckle whitening grip. "You have to listen to me," Link hollers, his patience running thin as screams sound from below. "Colin—," Link whips his head back to the village and feels his body vibrate with adrenaline as three horsemen charge the path leading to the ranch.

Link takes Colin's hand and quickly races to the stables. As they enter the dark structure, the goats within anxiously greet them. Colin sniffles and wipes his face as Link leads the way to the crawlspace in the back. As stands below, he reaches his hands up for Colin to come. Just as the young man holds Colin beneath the pits, something pulls back and the boy screams and wriggles under its grip.

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**As always, reviews are much appreciated and always welcomed!**

**~MsBBSue**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters, nor the series or anything of or relating to said title-except some games, but I do not own the rights to any of it. I am not profiting from this. This is purely for entertainment purposes.**

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**Chapter Two**

Link holds onto Colin not willing to let Rusl down. The boy lets out a holler as the tug of war makes his body ach and stretch in ways he never knew possible. Finally, Link gives one final pull and both he and Colin land on the ground of the crawlspace. Gloved purple hands reach down and swipe at them making Link let out a gasp. He quickly rolls on top of Colin and struggles to keep himself steady as the hands pummel his back making him release grunts and groans.

"Get-away-from-the-hole," Link manages out as he lifts his body high enough for the child to slip out from under him.

Colin's vision seems to pulsate as he pushes himself away from the light. As Link begins to pull himself to a safe distance, one of the hands grab the back of his dirty blonde hair making him holler as his head rises partly above the entrance. Colin's scream is what gives Link the added strength to fight the force and free himself from the vice grip.

As the young man ducks back down with the forced release, he rolls to the left of the hole towards Colin and grabs the boy. Quickly, he leads to the safety of the darkness on all fours with Colin treading at his side. Link's heart pounds in the back of his throat as he watches a head lower down. His face twists in disgust as the upside down head turns looking for them out in the darkness. Neither of the boy's could see a face, but both knew it was something they had never seen before.

Link's hand lowers to the dirt and feels for a rock. The young man takes a shallow breath as he picks it up, winds his arm back, takes another breath and throws the stone landing it on the back of the figures head. With a yelp, it is gone nearly as quickly as it had appeared.

"Who are they—," Link quickly silences Colin with a hand over the boy's mouth.

"Not a word," he whispers so soft it makes a bird's feather seem sharp and jagged.

They sit on their knees waiting; listening to the footsteps above as an argument in a foreign tongue sounds off. There are hollers and then a loud thud as one of the horsemen knocks another to the floor of the stables. Link wraps an arm around Colin's shoulders as a fearful tear falls from the boy's eyes.

New footsteps sound at the entrance of the stables; the voice that follows is lower than the others and sharp enough to cut through brick. The words fall on the deaf ears of the boys as the voice lets out clicks, rolls, and odd vowels. Suddenly, there is silence and Link lets out the breath he has been holding and relaxes his shoulders.

"In an hour I'll go through the back and make sure they're gone before we leave," he whispers to the boy. "We have to wait though," he says. "I doubt they're gone."

Colin leans into Link and gives a faint nod.

"You no come out; we smoke you out," a voice hollers followed by laughter from the outside making Link's body stiffen. The Hylian is nearly unrecognizable with its thick accent.

"What does that mean?" Colin asks as he turns his head up to the young man.

Link's lips part as he looks to the brightness of the hole. "I'm not sure…" After a moment of his uncertainty, his eyes widen as an orange glow shoots from above the crawlspace entrance and glows down in wavering strengths. "Dear Farore," Link curses. Quickly, he shakes Colin. "We have to get out—,"

"But they're out there—,"

"We _have_ to," Link urges as the fire above threatens to roast them alive. It does not take long for the thick black smoke to drop down to their level. Link is nearly blind as he leads the way to the small exit just along the eastern wall of the small space. He can hear Colin coughing from behind, but when he reaches back to help the child, his heart skips a beat; Colin is not there.

Link looks through the smoke wildly as he pulls the neck of his tunic up and over his mouth and nose. Another cough sounds but Link cannot determine which direction it comes from. Laughter taunts his ears from the beings outside as the flames in the stables rise and burn with such heat it makes Death Mountain Crater seem like a cooling oasis.

"Colin," Link calls out before a cough chokes him. He gasps for air as the smoke coats his lungs. "Colin!" he hollers again, but no answer falls onto his ears. It is as if the fire's smoke has wrapped its black fingers around Link's throat as he struggles to breath. His mouth opens to call again, but it only comes out in the language of coughs and chokes.

Suddenly, Link's body gives out below him. He lies face down in the dirt of the crawlspace; worry makes his brow furrow deeply even in his blackening vision. His hands dig into the earth, but he is too weak to pull himself—his lungs bleed for clean air and his eyes tear from the stingy smoke. With a final breath, his face drops to the dirt and his body accepts the burning heat.

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"Link," a quiet voice beckons. "Please, Link… get up." There is a sniffle. "Please," the voice stretches out the vowel as it begs.

The young man nuzzles his head and lets out a moan as his raw throat burns for water. As his eyes open, he wishes he still slept. His vision is fogged for the time being, but his ears are well. Crickets chirp out in the land around him as a fire crackles and hisses its ease. Link's heavy eyes open once more and make out the soft chubby face of Colin; an orange glow lighting only half the boys face.

Colin's once blonde hair now rests atop of his head ashen and matted and his eyes are puffy as if he had been cry for years on end. The boy timidly watches as a few figures pass between him and Link and then off into the darkness. Link startles as laughter sounds behind him, but it is short lived and fades as the buzz of chatter surrounds both he and Colin.

Link gingerly pushes himself up; his hand holding his head as it spins in sickening circles. "Are you all right?" he asks as his eyes wince.

Colin's bottom lip quivers before a slow nod. "Are you?" he asks in a bone chilling whisper. Shadows dance off the child's face and give him the appearance of being hollow—empty, even. Link's mouth dryly hangs open as he thinks for an answer but before he can give it a purple cloaked figure approaches them.

It says nothing as it points towards Colin and waits for the young man to move to the boy's side. After an impatient moment, the figure pushes Link until he is where it wishes. Link stumbles to the ground on his weak legs and looks up as the figure lowers to a crotch before him. It roughly pulls at his hands until they are open, palms together. Link swallows hard as the figure then begins wrapping leather bindings around his wrists.

"You're not going to hurt us, are you?" he asks quietly as the figure continues its work.

The being stares at the young man through the slit of its purple headscarf. With the facial covering, all Link could read were its yellow eyes; they were strained on the lower lids and a harshness made Link nearly pity the thing. The young man tries again. "Are you going to hurt us?" he reiterates hoping the being understands him.

"Don't bother with that one," a soft masculine voice calls out. Both Link and Colin's eyes shoot to a rather svelte man with a delicate nose standing just out of the reach of the glowing fire. "She's a mute," he says before a forced frown at the figure. The man steps towards the three and places a hand on the woman's back making her body stiffen. "Barely understands the Gerudo tongue little lone your complex Hylian," he adds before letting out a sweet chuckle as the woman rises and leaves.

With urgency, the man lowers himself before Colin making his long black cloak puff out over the land below him. He takes the boy's hands; his eyes wandering around the black leather that restricts their movements.

"Are they too tight?" he asks; his voice nearly a whisper and black eyes filled with concern.

Frozen by the touch, Colin cannot answer. He watches the man for a moment before finally shaking his head as his eyes shoot to the ground.

"Good," the man says with a smile and short chuckle, "less discomfort for you on the road." The man's black gaze falls onto Link and the young man feels a knot twist in his belly. The man then takes Link's hands into his own. "And yours, dear one?" he asks without even examining them.

Link watches the man carefully. Something about it all seemed insincere—his smile almost mocking the boys and their restraints. Yet, something about his touch brought comfort to Link and nearly contradicted the man's awful grin.

Link takes his hands back. "No. They are fine," he says sternly.

"Excellent," the man says with a wicked smirk and eyes narrowing. He takes a breath and rises. "Forgive me, I am being positively uncivil," he says with a bashful turn of his head. "I am Lord Ghirahim Meikka; lord to no land, but given the title due to my trade," he says with an exaggerated bow. His chin rises first as he examines the boys' faces before he straightens back to his full height. A smirk plays at his lips as Link's brows knit.

Colin's eyes narrow slightly as his forehead crinkles. This lord was not like the other men he had seen before, but he was not so different either. Ghirahim had the face of a knight from stories of old—perhaps even that of a prince. His jaw was smooth and cheekbones high and shallow—but his eyes were the real wonder of his gentlemanly appearance. They sat wide and blacker than coal but when the flame's light flickered and licked them just right they would shine with violet and ultramarine.

"W-what is your business?" Link finally asks.

Lord Ghirahim Meikka releases a charming laugh filled with faux modesty. The man then turns his palms up and out as he gestures to the shadows amongst them just before the tree line. Link's eyes studies the shadows for a moment and, suddenly, he feels hot sick threatening his throat. The shadows are people—not just people, but children.

"I deal in Hylian trades," Lord Ghirahim says with a smirk and slight bow of his head as his hands lower back to his sides.

A gurgle sounds in the back of Colin's throat as he finds his voice. "What's going to happen to us?" he asks. It is a question not even Link is brave enough to ask.

"Don't you worry your little heart, child," the lord says with a long finger giving a gentle poke to the boy's nose. "You have the advantage, young one," he says and frowns slightly at the sound of his accent slipping through his lips when prior it had been undetectable. He takes a quick breath and, once again, he is all smiles at the boys.

"As stated by Gerudo Law, I am not permitted to sell or give any Hylian child under the age of twelve to any Gerudo unless said Gerudo has the ability to keep the child fed and clothed." Lord Ghirahim watches Colin for a moment as the words dance in the child's head. "So what all this means, sweet child, is you will be sold to someone who will care for you," he says as he reaches a hand out and ruffles the boy's already matted ashen hair.

Colin's eyes nearly wince as he absorbs the information. "What about Link?" he asks with his pitch a squeak of urgency.

Lord Ghirahim Meikka cocks an eyebrow and purses his lips with displeasure. His ebony eyes lazily look to Link and then back to Colin. "Child… you friend is rather…" he searches for the Hylian word, "pretty. It will not take long for him to sell. Children with his sort of look tend to be sold at higher prices. He won't go long without a good meal and nice bed, either." The man gives Link a wicked grin before turning his eyes back to Colin. "Gerudo like to keep their pretty slaves well kempt. Often times they only use them for… _special_ occasions." Lord Ghirahim gives a short laugh as he turns back to Link. "You will probably never know the feeling of a calloused thumb, sweet boy, and _that_ is truly a luxury."

Link shifts himself; a sudden discomfort making his skin itch and crawl.

Lord Ghirahim Meikka stretched for a moment; his eyes look out to the shadows of the other children and then return to the boys. "You two had better get some rest," he says with a raised brow and bored expression. "We start our march at sun rise." The man presses his lips together as his eyes look out to the distance with thought. "It will be a very long walk to the desert from here," he says almost to himself. As Lord Ghirahim turns away, he pauses abruptly; one hand rises to his lips before he turns back to them. "Forgive me, I should warn you; if your shoes are too small, leave them behind. They will only slow you down." He shakes his head with a sly smile and narrowed eyes. "And, trust me, boys, you do not want to be the one slowing the group down." He gives a quick shrug and takes a breath. "We have a very strict time limit and I cannot have someone keeping us from our day to day goals," he says simply before turning back and leaving the orange light of the fire.

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**As always, reviews are much appreciated and always welcomed!**

**~MsBBSue**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters, nor the series or anything of or relating to said title-except some games, but I do not own the rights to any of it. I am not profiting from this. This is purely for entertainment purposes.**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

As promised by the lord, Ghirahim Meikka, with the first light of morning, the group was on the move. Link was amongst one of the first children to wake—though he never really slept that night. With the embers dulling and darkening in the wee hours of the morning, the gravity of their situation seemed to weigh heavily on Link's shoulders like a rucksack far past its capacity. Fear consumed him as Colin nuzzled into his side. It causes a tightness in his chest that made it hard to catch his breath. Anticipation kept his tired eyes from staying shut for too long.

When the sky became bruised with blues and purples of the dawning light, Link woke Colin gingerly only to have the young child cry. Colin thought it had all been a dream; a nightmare of sorts. He was prepared to wake to his mother cooing over him and Link helping his father prepare for the celebration of the Goddesses—not Link's sooty face staring back at him in the dirt.

As the Gerudo began to stir from their sleep, two of the purple draped women approached the boys, and, without a word, they led Link and Colin to the group of children they had only seen shadows of prior. The children were skeletal. Their starved bellies bloated with emptiness while their wide eyes glassed over with hollowness. It made Link's stomach churn. Some of the faces looked upon the two boys with such desperation—such pleading eyes—that Link could no longer look at their faces.

With iron chain and shackles, the two women locked the boys' feet into the line up of children. There was only enough slack for walking—any step further than a quick stride would cause them to trip and tumble over.

Link takes a deep breath through his nose and screws his face up with the stench that follows. A mix between fecal matter and filth like none he had ever smelt before hit his nose. The children were unkempt and didn't seem to even know they were giving off such an offensive odor.

Colin stands before Link and after a young girl. The small boy looks around wildly for a face that is nowhere to be seen. His father would be looking for him just as he was for him. He couldn't leave without the man—not like this—not with these people.

Suddenly, at the front of the line, the Lord of Slaves stands. His black cape now exchanges for a cream one with crimson lining. It blows in the early morning breeze as he points to the east. Without a word and only a uniformed nod by the Gerudo, the svelte man steps into a caravan. Before drawing the curtains back, Link is nearly certain he sees the man smile—perhaps even laugh. The kindness the lord wanted them to feel was merely a façade; it was all a front for what would follow in the passing weeks.

"We can't go," Colin whispers urgently as he turns to Link. The young man, himself, was thinking likewise. "Link, tell them we can't go with them—tell them we have to wait for papa—I have to stay and wait for him—," a tug on the chain makes Colin stumble before yielding to the pull.

"Link!" Colin hollers as they begin walking. "I have to wait for papa!" The boy's eyes shoot to an approaching Gerudo. "He's looking for me!" he hollers as the Gerudo grabs the neck of his tunic and roughly pushes him in the direction his leash urges him.

"Hey!" Link growls out as he takes a threatening step towards the woman. "Leave him alone, he's scared," he says as his own chain tugs at his ankles.

"I want papa!" Colin cries out only to have the swift hand of the Gerudo smack open palmed across his chubby cheek.

"No papa; you move," the Gerudo barks out making Colin's bottom lip shiver. She narrows her eyes and, after a moment, Colin follows the girl in front of him with a tear trailing down his ruby cheek.

Link takes a shaky breath; with the confrontation over, his blood vibrated. He wanted to run away—he wanted to find Rusl and Uli, but, with the shackles and leather bounds, he would not get far and neither would Colin.

As they past the sooty remains of their village, Colin kept his eyes to the ground following the bare feet in front. Link, however, couldn't help but stare. Everything he had grown up around; the homes he visited, the tree house Rusl built for him, the docks the villagers fish on—all of it was gone and replaced with ash and blackened earth.

Link swallows back a cry as he sees a pile smoking.

"Friends," a Gerudo says as she points a short, thick finger out to the burning pile. "Friends gone," she says with a smirk visible under her violet veil. "They burn; they scream; they gone."

Link quickly averts his eyes as his ears ring with the vile words.

Day in and day out the boys followed their line; they marched even when their calves aches and stomachs knotted from hunger. They kept moving even when Colin was too tired to take another step. Eventually, the young chubby faced boy Link was accustomed to grew into slacked skin and worn, tired eyes. Link, himself, had become only a shred of the blossoming young man he once was. Where his muscles had been now sat thin flesh wrapped tightly over bone; his feet were bruised by the terrain and his legs were nearly numb from the constant march.

During nightfall, as the boys learnt of all too quickly, was when the greater evil began. The Gerudo women would take a handful of boys and clip their chains. As the boys stood freely, they would cry and scream.

"Free," the Gerudo would call out with extravagant gestures towards the horizon, but none of the boys would budge.

It wasn't until the Gerudo would become violent that the boys would finally race. Sometimes up and down hills, other times across flat fields, but all would charge off with tears streaming down their sunken faces and energy they never knew they had.

The envy Link and Colin felt for them in the beginning quickly diminished the moment theuy found out what the Gerudo meant by _free_.

With the young boys only pea-sized specks across the terrain, the Gerudo would line up and raise their bows. With readied arrows, they would watch and each would search out a single boy running for his life. The children who remained in line would begin screaming; hollering out warnings to the racing boys, but those who ran already knew what would become of them, for they had seen other boys given the same fate. It was foolish for one to think they were the exception to the rule of the game.

Each red haired demon would then release in unison. They would jump and smile when their targets were hit; some laughed as the boys who still breathed attempted to crawl towards their promised freedom. The Gerudo would watch for a moment, enjoying the show and then draw another arrow and finish the boys off. _Free_; death was their only source of freedom.

When this happened the first time, Link covered Colin's eyes. The times after, Colin pulled away and watched emotionless while Link took comfort in the fact that they were still chained and bound.

"They do this every three nights," Lord Ghirahim says as he approaches the chained boys, though the words are unneeded for they had already seen the pattern.

The svelte man lowers himself to the grass and takes a deep breath with a delayed exhale as a scream sounds in the field. "It used to be every night until I finally told them that they were killing off our profits." He shakes his head and rubs the back of his neck. "Now they only take little boys… usually the small and weak." Lord Ghirahim makes a face as his eyes land on the diminishing form of Colin. "Really any who they feel will not make the journey," he finishes as his eyes come back to Link.

Link's tired eyes watch as one of the already impaled boys continues to crawl through the field. A shot is fired and Link turns his head, his heart weeping. He looks to Colin and only feels more sadness overcome him. The child had not said a word in weeks.

"Why are you doing this?" Link finally asks with a defeated shrug as the shadow from a nearby fire highlights his gaunt face.

"For the rupee," Lord Ghirahim says bluntly.

Link shakes his head. The words slowly come to him as he forces the words out. "Why are you talking to me? Do you wish to only further my sorrow?"

The Lord of Slaves gives the young man a long blink. His back straightens as he pushes his silver hair out of his eyes. Stuck in thought, Lord Ghirahim Meikka—with his proud eyes—looks to the ground as if struck with shamed. "The ways of the world are strange, sweet child. The paths we follow are odd and tend to reflect those of who we encounter. We understand this, yes?"

Link furrows his brow, be it his immense hunger for the lack of his train of thought, he does not know how to answer—or, more importantly, what the lord wishes to hear. Over the passing weeks, the flamboyant man would find time every evening to step aside from his lordly doings to strike up the dying conversation of both the boys.

"I take your silence as a no." The lord presses his lips together and watches intently as the Gerudo leave their shooting line and head off towards their targets to retrieve their arrows. "You and I—," he smirks, "—we're not so different." His ebony eyes then land on Link, waiting for the young man to urge him on—even in the smallest way.

Link's brow rises and his lips part slightly, though not a noise comes through his chapped and painfully cracked lips. Lord Ghirahim flashes his teeth in a laugh. It is enough for him to continue.

"I was brought to the Gerudo the same as you." His eyes scan the evening's camp. "A grown man, albeit," he corrects. "I was lost; no familiarity to the lands I wandered. A vagabond was I.

"I was searching for a purpose, a meaning—something that would make my life worth living, for up until the moment I was taken captive by these women, I had no idea just how important my life was to me." The pale man shakes his head, shame narrowing his eyes. "They brought me salvation," he admits, perhaps for the first time, with complete honesty. Link watches the man for a moment, unsure whether he should listen further. Lord Ghirahim Meikka sighs. "They took me to their king and that was when I realized _what_ my purpose was.

"You see, the time before my capture, before I realized how much of the world I took for granted, I wanted to _be_ something. His Majesty gave me what I craved. He promised me a life of luxury so long as I did as he asked, and there was my purpose; to serve." Lord Ghirahim smirks with arrogance though shrugs with a pinch of modesty. "And I did as he asked quite remarkably—if may say so," he adds with a grin.

Link rubs his wrists; the leather that still binds them has cut deep into his skin and infection oozes from the wounds. "How much longer will it take before we are in the desert?" he asks trying to forget the lord believing the two of them are similar.

"Three more good days of travel," Lord Ghirahim says as he stretches his arms above his head and yawns. "And then we sell off the homely children in the market and then off to the palace with you and a few others hand picked by yours truly."

Link's eyes dart to Colin. The boy now sits with his chin lowered to his chest and soft snore coming from his small frame. Link looks back to Lord Ghirahim and licks his lips. "What about Colin?" he asks, terror making the words small and weak like his drained body.

The man sighs. "This is where there seems to be an issue." Link's sapphires narrow at the lord. "I was given strict orders to bring all boys with blue eyes and blonde hair back to the palace. His Majesty was _very_ specific." He nods with a long blink. Link furrows his brow and shakes his head. "Ah, so young, so innocent; have you not heard of the prophecy?" Lord Ghirahim chuckles softly.

Link shakes his head, his cheeks now pinching up. Lord Ghirahim readjusts himself on the ground and smiles. "I fear I will bore you if I tell you it in whole, so here it is—only the most important details.

"His Majesty's little princess told us of quite a terrible thing. A young boy with sky blue eyes and pale yellow hair would bring an end to our king's rule. Perish the though," Lord Ghirahim says. "When he asked his sweet little princess what brought the idea upon her, she said it was all in a dream that goddesses of her lands gave to her." He shakes his head. "Perish the thought," he repeats through near gritted teeth. "As much as I tried to convince His Majesty that the goddesses were a thing of only Hylian belief, he emphasized that if I came back to the city without a boy with blue eyes and yellow hair, I would expire."

The Lord of Slaves' eyes then look out to the darkness, following movement undetected by Link. "I fear that one there relishes at the thought of my expiring," he says, pointing a long pale finger out into the black.

Link watches for a moment, waiting to see what the man speaks of and, suddenly, something moves in the darkness. It creeps closer and closer to them making the hairs on the back of Link's neck stand on end.

As the fire's light greets the figure, the face of a woman is revealed; intense golden eyes, cardinal red hair, and high cheekbones with a scar running down her face staring from just below the right eyes extending just past the base of her neck.

"I would no sooner see you dead than my own king," she says with sinister sweetness.

"That is what concerns me, Denda," Lord Ghirahim says as the woman lowers her chin to the name. She then raises her head, her eyes narrowed and lips pressed together as she watches the man. "I fear you would see all dead—even your own king—if you had it your way," he says with a smile meant to harm.

Denda returns his smile with a certain grace, though, if looks could kill, the Lord of Slaves would surely be destroyed. "I only wish to right the wrongs of others, Lord Ghirahim." She then turns her back to them, her head slightly turned over as her eyes look at link in their corners. "It would do you a world of good to stop listening to his foul words, boy—"

"And it would do _you_ a world of good to have your tongue snatched from that pretty little mouth of yours," Lord Ghirahim growls. "Must I retrieve the iron rods?" He narrows his black eyes. "It would be a pity to mark that face of yours again…"

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**As always, reviews are much appreciated and always welcomed!**

**~MsBBSue**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own any Legend of Zelda characters, nor the series or anything of or relating to said title-except some games, but I do not own the rights to any of it. I am not profiting from this. This is purely for entertainment purposes.**

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**Chapter Four**

Colin stumbles on the sand dune as the children march on. The sun was scorching in these lands; it made his skin painfully red and caused blisters to form across his nose and down the back of his neck. He hated it, if he truly understood the vulgar word. He also hated the giant sandstone statues staring him down along the grooved path they followed.

The Land of Giants is what the children called the area and rightfully so. Every twenty yards or so, a new statue would loom over them; it's stone eyes glaring down at them as if they were intruders and these massive beings the guardians. As the children's chains sang out into the ever quiet desert, it was as if the stone giants kept not only the children silent, but the Gerudo as well.

"They're watching us," Colin whispers, his voice all but there. His eyes quickly look up at the stone faces and then back to the tangerine sand. "They're mad at us," he says, his voice dropping with his chin.

Link looks to the faces; the narrowed stone eyes glowering down at them as if their very presence irritated the giants. "They're just stone, Colin," he says, yet a part of him feels the same fear as the small boy before him.

"I don't like it," Colin says with his voice gaining back its strength from his long silence. The boy sniffles and tries his best to wipe his tears before the Gerudo take notice. "I'm scared, Link," he finally says and, for the first time in his young life, he truly was. Link licks his chapped lips and draws in a dry scratchy breath. The tone of Colin's voice was so damaged, so honest, that it nearly stopped Link in his tracks.

Link shakes his head. "You don't have to be. They aren't going to hurt us," he says quietly.

Colin's shoulders rise and fall with a heavy breath. "You saw what they did to all those boys." Colin presses his lips together. "What if it's us tonight—or the next time or the time after that?" A cry catches in the back of the small boy's throat. "Pierced and bleeding and dead," he whimpers out before catching a tear rolling down his face.

"It won't happen to us," Link says softly, his voice distant and eyes set on the back of the filthy child's head. Just as he opens his mouth to give words of reassurance, a tug on the chain from behind makes all ahead stumble and, those closest to the cause, fall.

Link looks back down the line at the other children and sees one lying on the ground. A little girl screams and cries for the child to stand back up; she pulls at the limp limbs and does her best to hoist the boy up onto his feet with her bound hands.

The two were siblings; their faces near exact copies of one another. Twins, perhaps; close enough in age that they both needed one another to survive, anyhow.

Link turns back forward, unwilling to see what the Gerudo will do to them.

There is a scream and then a cry, but, eventually, the line continues to move as it had many times before. This is what their days had become. From racing around their villages and laughing to horror, death, and starvation. Each day, they waited, for one child—sometimes two—would fall and when they fell, their lives were forfeit. They were _free_ just as the young boys were who ran for their lives.

By midday, the horizon revealed a city and the stone giants became boar-like with giant tusks curving beneath their lips and snouts—yet they remained with eerily manlike qualities. With these new stone images, Colin found no relief to his fear. He much preferred the giants over the boars. None of the children dared to look up, not even Link.

As the city grew, a stone path emerged from the sand. The Gerudo ordered the children to stay on the sand, for stone was meant to be stepped on only by those whose blood came from the scorching lands. Not even Lord Ghirahim marched on the path.

With evening's blanket draping over the land, the city gates stood mere meters away. One of the Gerudo called out in a tongue that slithered and licked in the air with clicks and snaps only to have the gates open in return. Behind the walls stood the magnificence of the desert; tents and marquees made up most of the structures, while tall stone buildings made up the city's centre.

It was the colours that hit Link first; vibrant purples and reds coating the nearly brown stone buildings like capes, green and blue carpets that sat on the ground before entrances, purple flags that wriggled in the wind as if they were dancing to the unheard music of night. Then it was the smell. Jasmine and rose water greeted his tainted nostrils with the faded scent of freshly baked bread. It made Link's hunger burn a hole through his stomach lining all the while making him long for home more than ever.

As the line of children entered the gate, the women inside did not stare—Gerudo do not stare. Their amber eyes ignored the children as the women's long noses shot upturned. They did not like the sight of newcomers, even if they were to be slaves soon enough. As Colin's eyes scan the city's buildings, two young Gerudo race towards him, but their mother grips their hands and drags them back to a safer distance. The Gerudo girls had yet to understand that _these_ children were not playmates.

The group march to the city's centre, the Bazaar—a market place of sorts where only the truly dirty dealings happened. Anywhere from the selling of goat's blood for medical remedies to the profiteering of the slaved both of the young and the old; it was all dealt here.

It was where the homely children, as Lord Ghirahim so eloquently put, would be sold. As the Gerudo lead them, they quickly begin cutting the chains off the selected children and escort them out onto a platform draped by soft purple and blue curtains.

Colin watches as a group of children stand on the stage. Some are scared and crying while those whose journeys were longer stand emotionless; their eyes dead. They're herded like sheep and no matter how much they fight back and beg to be put back onto their leashes, their pleas fall into deaf ears. Colin reaches out and grips Link's hand as one of the Gerudo pass by; her eyes narrowing at him.

"It's all right," Link whispers as his own eyes follow the same Gerudo. "Everything will be fine. Just stay with me," he says with a trace of a tremble of his own uncertainty.

"Are we being sold?"

"No—," _not here_. Link's sapphires shoot up to the platform as the curtains open up and a booming voice calls out to the growing crowd below. Her words are incomprehensible as Link watches her bring a little girl to the front by the scruff of her neck.

The child's teeth are crooked, her eyes two different colours and hair a wild mass of curls mixed with twigs. She was older than most of the children—her maturing body growing into the young woman she may or may never see.

Colin jumps as yelling sounds off in the crowd. Hands fly up and, though it takes a moment for understanding, he realizes they are auctioning off the girl. The hollers and hands fly for nearly five minutes. Perhaps it was because the child had long legs and strong arms—or maybe because she had the odd eyes. Whatever it was, though to Lord Ghirahim she was homely, these Gerudo believed she was a worthy prize.

Just as the child is taken off the platform to meet her master, a new child is brought forth. A boy with dark hair and light eyes—closer to Colin's age and nearly as bashful as him. He covers his face as the women below holler out their prices. It doesn't take long for him to sell as the crowd slowly silences its hollers.

"The chances he survives past adolescence are very low," a voice says. Link turns his head to the source and sees Lord Ghirahim. The lord's white hair catches the light of a near by torch and shines like liquid silver. "His price was lowered because of that," he says as his ebony eyes watch the platform with a near excitement.

"Why would it matter?" Link asks softly.

Lord Ghirahim scoffs. "Do not play so innocent, sweet child," he says through the side of his mouth. "They are an all female race. Without man, they would cease to exist."

Link feels a shiver crawl up his back.

"It's the older boys they like. Less of a chance of them dying before they can do what they were bought to do," the man says before brushing an itch on his perfect delicate nose. "At times, I am thankful that was not the fate His Majesty wished to bestow upon me," he adds with a smirk. "Don't get me wrong; a night of fun I'm all for… but… this is a little more than just one night… they'll have with you until you are bone dry, dear boy."

"Is that what I'll be bought for?" he asks as Colin watches a new group line up before the steps of the platform.

Lord Ghirahim pushes back his black and gold cloak revealing his slender shoulders. "If the prophecy is false, you will be bought and sold to a woman who wishes for a daughter." He takes a deep breath. "Chances have it she will use you and pass you through her sisters until the day comes that you either bring no more children or die."

"I don't want that," Link says softly as his eyes fall to the sand below.

"No one wishes for death, child," Lord Ghirahim says with a soft grin that makes his eyes crease in the corners. "It would take true suffering for one to wish for it. Even then, fewer are granted it when they seek it," he says before turning his black eyes back to the platform.

"What if the prophecy is true?" Link asks after a moment as an older boy is lead off the stage.

Lord Ghirahim shakes his head. "You can say goodbye to that little boy and anything else you ever cared for." He furrows his brow. "Death will be the only outcome if the princess' dream proves to be true."

Link licks his lips and furrows his brow. "Is there any good outcome?"

"Depends on who you ask." Lord Ghirahim pushes back his white hair as his bangs tumble into his eyes. "_I_ would say yes for I profit from every little body that comes into my possession. Ask a Gerudo and she would also say yes for she earns her keep for every one of those tiny Hylians. Her reputation grows with every small slave she has in her household." Lord Ghirahim makes a face. "Ask His Majesty and he would also give you the same answer, for he would still be able to rule whether or not the prophecy is true because he has had his women march the lands around the desert and drag back every little blond haired blue eyed boy." He shakes her head. "He has certainly secured his safety.

"However, if you were to ask yourself, I fear you would receive a no because either way you look at it, your outcome is rather dull." Lord Ghirahim crosses his arms. "And, between you and me, there is never really a good end to such a terrible beginning."

"You would have me killed?" Link asks, his jaw slacked as he looks back at the Lord of Slaves.

"You, that little boy, my best Gerudo—I would have everyone killed if it meant His Majesty could sleep better at night. He is my master, sweet child. Hopefully, with any luck, you will understand that wonderful bond between the served and server." Lord Ghirahim looks back to the stage and sucks his teeth as a child is taken off stage. "No sale…" He shakes his head.

"What does that mean?" Colin's face twists to Link and the lord.

"Tomorrow she will be released," Lord Ghirahim says with a sigh before rushing a hand through his hair. "She will be free—," he waves his hand in the air as if to cut the boys' thoughts in half, "—not in the way these Gerudo know the word… but released, able to live out the rest of her days."

Colin presses his lips together as he watches in envy as the girl is led away. "I hope I do not sell," Colin nearly whispers.

Lord Ghirahim places a hand on the child's shoulder and lets out a chuckle. "For your sake, sweet thing, so do I."

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**As always, reviews are much appreciated and always welcomed!**

**~MsBBSue**


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